


Come What May

by KittsFics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix It, Fluff, Gen, I hope, M/M, Reunions, finale what finale?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittsFics/pseuds/KittsFics
Summary: "Fuck, Cas." He clears his throat, and brushes away the moisture gathering at the corner of his eyes, his other hand now flat over Cas' heart."How?""Had to repay the favour right? Sorry it took so long."
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Come What May

**Author's Note:**

> But I love you until the end of time,  
> Come what may, Come what may,  
> I will love you until my dying day.  
> \- Come What May (Moulin Rouge)
> 
> I haven't been here since season 8, but I do unfortunately exist on tumblr, so I thought I'd get some feelings on what I've seen on the finale. So sorry if things are inaccurate, I haven't seen the last few seasons, or in fact any episodes in the last 5 years. But here I am.

Time had stopped having any sort of meaning, some times had pain, some just nothing, an endless nothing. He wasn't sure which was worse. Free once again from a physical form, everything feels different, some things heightened, others dulled, blurry. But always endless, with no control over anything, even himself. He drifts, he hurts, he dreams, he… lives? Not even sure who is, or was.

But for the first time there's something else, intermittent whispers, a voice he almost recognises, rising and falling, giving him something to focus on in the emptiness. Something settles in him in response, something he hasn't felt for a long time, a time before he was here. Then other sensations start to return, phantom limbs and an ache in his non existent chest, a feeling of loss, of something missing. Someone? More? A family? Was that what he's lost?

Then a sudden pressure, crushing him down to nanometres, then stretching him out over miles. A burst of light, excruciating after so long with nothing, and his hands come up to cover his newly formed eyes, stumbling backwards on shaky legs. A voice nearby, the voice, the one he's been hearing for the last however long, calls a name, his name? The shape of it sounds right. 

He takes a deep breath and slowly uncovers his eyes to see a man struggling to his feet, limping a couple of steps closer, one hand braced on the table, the other outstretched towards him, stopping a few inches shy of his face, close enough for him to see the tremors. 

"Dean." He doesn't know where the name comes from but it's evidently right as Dean makes a small choked sound, his hand coming up to frame his face, callused fingers against his cheeks. And he remembers.

Years of phone calls, of car drives, of fights and sleepless nights, of bad decisions and good. Of Dean, of Sam, of Bobby, of Jack, Charlie, Claire, all the other parts of their little family. Of fond looks and lingering fingers, of soft smiles and whispered confessions. Of love, most of all. 

He tugs Dean closer, pressing his face into the soft material of his shirt, a small part of him marvelling at the texture, most of him just overwhelmed with having Dean so close. The familiar smell of smoke and gunpowder, hands tangled in each other's clothes, Dean's breathing ragged by his ear.

They pull back after a long moment, Dean's hands going to the lapels of his overcoat, Cas' lingering on his waist as he takes him in. There's new wrinkles around his eyes, the little weight he's put on and the limp imply he's no longer fighting fit, as it were. Likely no longer hunting himself, or not often. 

"Fuck, Cas." He clears his throat, and brushes away the moisture gathering at the corner of his eyes, his other hand now flat over Cas' heart.

"How?"

"Had to repay the favour right? Sorry it took so long." 

Before he can answer there's a rapid clicking sound and a pale bundle of fur appears in the doorway behind them, followed a moment later by a giggling toddler. Dean reluctantly steps away, patting the head of the dog as he passes and scooping up the child in a seemingly well practiced move, settling them on his hip where they give a shy wave before burying their face in Dean's shirt. 

Cas takes in their surroundings for the first time, it looks like they're in one of the little study rooms in the bunker, redecorated since he'd last been here. There's new photographs on the wall, the people he knew, many looking a handful of years older, interspersed with ones he doesn't. The one in the centre is of Sam and Eileen sprawled on a sofa and holding a baby, Dean off to one side, all three of them laughing. He assumes it's this child that Dean brings closer now, glancing over at the photographs before gently bouncing them. "Cas, this is Jo, Sam and Eileen’s little menace, and Miracle." The last is said with a quick nod to the dog, "Bug, this is Cas."

"Like from the stories?" They untuck themselves with an excited squeal, looking over at Cas with awe.

"Yeah, that's him." The depth of emotion in Dean's voice catches him by surprise, as does that fact that Jo knows who he is, that they’ve told their child about him. Dean clears his throat, before setting them back on the ground, avoiding Cas' gaze. "Shoo, go find your dad." With one last wide-eyed look at Cas they disappear back out into the main room, Miracle clacking along behind them. 

Later he'll hear about the ritual Dean's been performing, repeating phrases over months with things burnt or buried at the solstices. Later he'll meet the others, and Sam will cry, Eileen grinning with Jo in her arms. They'll call the rest of their hodge podge family, and get more screams and tears. Jo will tell him very seriously that Dean is their favourite uncle, and that he tells the best bedtime stories and always remembers to check for monsters under the bed. 

He'll find out what's happened in the years that he's been gone, the roles people have fallen into, and the ones they chose. The hunts they've been one, the injury that left Dean taking a supporting and organising role, and how much he loves it, that he’s the one keeping more people safe. He’ll also find out about the people they've lost, the ones he knew, and the ones they’ve met since, and they’ll raise a glass in their memory. 

Later still Dean will hesitantly reach out, linking their fingers to tug him down the corridor and they'll curl up on his bed and talk. About what Cas said, about what was left unsaid, about Cas's humanity and the future. 

But right now Dean steps close again, like he can't bear to go too far now that he has him back. Brushing knuckles along Cas' sleeve to reassure himself he's real, and hesitantly reaches up to rest a hand on the side of his neck, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He draws back, looking soft and uncertain, and Cas can’t help but pull him closer again, letting Dean bury his face in the side of his neck again. 

Everything is going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat to me on my tumblr (also [ kittsfics ](https://kittsfics.tumblr.com/))!


End file.
